


Slow Mornings Are Incomplete without Pancakes

by SnowyWolff



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Multi, OT3, because that's just how this ship sails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 05:25:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17053991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyWolff/pseuds/SnowyWolff
Summary: Matthew wakes to Gilbert snoring into his shoulder and Lovino sleeping half on top of him, drooling on his other shoulder.***There is a first time for everything, and for Lovino it's breakfast at Matthew's.





	Slow Mornings Are Incomplete without Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HaniBani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniBani/gifts).



> Haaaaaappy birthday to gizmo!!!!!

Matthew wakes to Gilbert snoring into his shoulder and Lovino sleeping half on top of him, drooling on his other shoulder.

He breathes a laugh because how had he gotten so lucky to have not one but two wonderful boyfriends. He runs a hand through the mess of curls Lovino’s hair devolves into, careful not to snag on a tangle as to preserve Lovi’s temper. His other arm is falling asleep underneath Gilbert and he tries to flex it to keep the blood flowing.

Gilbert grumbles though, mumbling unintelligibly, moving his own arm across Matthew’s bare stomach. It moves lower and lower and Matthew can feel the smile on Gilbert’s lips as he presses them against his neck.

“Mornin’, Mattie,” he mumbles.

“Morning.” Matthew chuckles, struggling to press a kiss to Gilbert’s hair. The shift causes Lovino to groan, fingers curling into Matthew's shirt as he shifts, almost kneeing Matthew in the groin as he does.

“Good morning, Lovi,” Matthew says, drawing a fingernail down his neck and back.

“Piss off, Matt,” he answers.

Gilbert laughs and Matthew smiles, pressing his fingers in his shoulder. “Come on, Lovi. I'll make breakfast.”

Lovino rolls off with a heavy sigh, curling around the sheets left on his side of the bed. Gilbert sits up and stretches as Matthew rolls over to poke the freckles on Lovino’s back.

“Lovi,” he whispers with every push of a fingernail. He enjoys the red flush spreading up his neck and continues, “Lovi, my love, my dear, my heart, my pearl, my treasure, my—”

“Jesus Christ, Matthew.” Lovino swats blindly behind him, hitting him in the nose, though it hardly hurts. “Gimme five.”

Matthew presses a quick kiss to his neck and rolls out of bed just as Gilbert reappears from the bathroom, hair sticking up at odd angles. He grabs Matthew's waist as Matthew reaches up to brush his hands through those white strands, patting them down for as much as possible. Gilbert laughs when Matthew is semi-satisfied and Matthew cups his cheeks momentarily so he can observe those normally intense red eyes, now still a muddled brown in morning bleariness despite his attempts at vigil awareness. Gilbert brushes their noses together shortly and leans up to kiss him.

“Yuck,” Matthew says and Gilbert sticks out his tongue, squeezing his butt before he trudges out the door again and down the stairs.

When Matthew steps out of the bathroom, small progress has been made by Lovino. He's now sprawled on his back, staring up at the ceiling with tired eyes. Matthew sits down on the mattress, smiling as Lovino glances at him, and he reaches up to run a hand through Lovino’s messy bangs.

“If I promise coffee once you step into the kitchen, would that inspire enough strength for you to get up?”

Lovino hums. “It'll certainly help.”

Matthew leans over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before making his way downstairs. Gilbert is already seated on the counter, cup of coffee in hand, grinning as Matthew opens the fridge to evaluate the situation.

“Could you make Lovino’s espresso?” he asks, moving aside some containers with leftovers from the previous days. To himself, he mumbles, “Now, what for breakfast, eh?”

Gilbert supplies him a hopeful suggestion as he slides off the counter, pressing buttons on the coffee machine with practised ease. “Pancakes?”

Matthew hums, eyeing the egg carton critically. “Should have enough, yeah.”

Lovino slumps into the kitchen as Matthew mixes the batter, kissing Gilbert’s cheek as he takes the coffee from him with a mumbled thanks. He sits at the kitchen table like a normal person, quietly sipping at the boiling liquid.

“Will you add chocolate chips as well?” Gilbert asks, eyes gleaming. He knows full well that a pancake breakfast isn't complete without chocolate and maple syrup and maybe some more melted chocolate and then whipped cream and fruit as well if Matthew feels like it.

“Chocolate?” Lovino echoes, a little slowly.

“Matthew makes the best chocolate pancakes,” Gilbert chirps. “Honestly, there's almost nothing better than a Canadian breakfast. If it isn't pancakes, it's a full English one, but without the beans, which makes it better, in my eyes anyway.”

Lovino seems to struggle through the sentences. He has that problem in the morning: sentences longer than five words, maybe eight at most, would pass him by.

“I can divide the batter so you can have without, Lovino,” Matthew says. He rifles through the cupboard until he finds an unopened bag of chocolate chips and tosses it toward Gilbert.

“Do whatever.” Lovino leans back in his chair, brushing a hand through his hair and wincing. “Can I grab a shower before you're done cooking?”

“Probably.” Matthew shrugs, then notices the way Gilbert’s hand pauses on its way from the bag of chocolate to his mouth and adds, “Not if Gilbert joins you.”

Gilbert whines. “But—”

“As if I'm showering with you again, bastard. Last time, I almost broke my neck,” Lovino says, scowling at him.

“That was—I mean, well, hmm. Yeah, I guess.” Gilbert dropped his handful of chocolate in his mouth. “You have such an uncanny ability to trip on nothing. Maybe I should come, just to hold you so you won’t fall.”

“If you fucking dare follow me into the bathroom, Gilbert Beilschmidt, I will ungift your apartment.”

“I don't think you can do that!” Gilbert shouts after him as he turns the corner.

“Fucking watch me!” There's a loud bang, followed by, “Fucking son of a bitch Jesus motherfucking Christ!” as well as a string of Italian curses as Lovino most likely bangs his toes against the hallway cabinet like he always does—and you’d think a man of over two thousand years of age would learn quickly, but you’d be gravely mistaken.

Gilbert turns to Matthew. “He can’t, right?”

Matthew snorts, taking the bag from his hands and dumping the remaining contents in the batter. “Who’s to say.”

“Shit.”

***

Matthew has just finished the last batch of pancakes when Lovino returns to the kitchen. He’s wearing a simple button down and slacks, hair brushed but left to its own devices, curls sticking up at odd directions.

Gilbert has finally taken a seat at the table, absently flicking through a magazine he's found after he had gotten tired of staring at Matthew’s ass (though not really, but Matthew had gotten tired of it). He glances up as Lovino drags another chair back, grinning as Lovino peers at what he had left the page open on.

“Did you think of me?” he asks as he pillows his cheek in the palm of his hand.

Lovino rolls his eyes with a scoff. “I'd rather think of Matthew.”

“I mean, you can think of us both.” Gilbert’s grin turns almost diabolical. “Making out, shirts off, maybe pants off, dicks ou—ch!”

Matthew slaps Gilbert around the back of his head. “Oh, that's enough,” he says as he places one plate of pancakes in front of Lovino.

Lovino, despite blushing furiously, looks unimpressed. “The only thing on my mind was, and still _is,_ breakfast.”

“And you're supposed to be the romantic nation out of us three,” Gilbert teases, reaching across the table for the maple syrup as Matthew hands him his plate.

“Thinking about fucking either of you, no matter how hot, isn't particularly romantic either.”

“But you admit it’s sexy, though,” Gilbert says through a mouthful, earning a disdainful look from both his boyfriends.

Lovino scratches his jaw, the warm flush forcing him to evade Gilbert’s eyes, settling on the tower of pancakes in front of him. “So, what am I supposed to do here?”

Matthew seats himself at the table end between them, pinching Gilbert’s arm and giving him a warning look. Then, he turns to Lovino, pushing the syrup to him first. “Well, true Canadian pancakes are slathered in maple syrup, obviously. And then you can add whatever.” He gestures to the arrangement of items on the table just as Gilbert snatches the whipped cream.

Lovino stares at it all, muttering something unintelligible. He drums his fingers against the table as he thinks, then startles when Matthew starts pouring syrup onto his pancakes generously. “Christ, Matthew, stop. I know I'm a semi-immortal being, but like, I'm seriously going to get diabetes from this.”

“Nah.” Gilbert waves him off. “I've been eating this for like fifty years; it's cool.”

Lovino’s nose wrinkles, so Matthew wisely nudges the blueberries in his direction. Lovino takes them without taking his eyes off of Gilbert, trying to convey just how not-okay he is with that prospect.

Matthew pretty much dumps the entire container of maple syrup on his own pancakes, stealing the whipped cream from Gilbert just as he's holding the can above his mouth. Gilbert gives him a foul look as Matthew does exactly what he had planned to do, grinning.

It’s amusing how wary Lovino is of his breakfast, piling it with a variety of fruit before staring at it, at a loss. He normally has a very meagre breakfast, mainly because he’s too lazy to get out of bed on time and prepare something substantial before he has to go to work. He watches Gilbert shovel his in his mouth for a moment, then turns to Matthew cutting his from the top.

“There’s no dignified way of eating pancakes, Lovi,” he says gently. “Dig in.”

Lovino sighs, but does as Matthew says. His eyes slide shut as they always do when he’s tasting something new. Matthew catches Gilbert pausing, fork mid-air, eyes just devouring Lovino as he’s wont to do. Matthew is equally greedy, taking in the curve of Lovino’s lips, how his frown smooths into something sweeter, the way his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.

When Lovino blinks his eyes open again, a faint flush on his cheeks, he stares at his plate for a long moment. “I guess, uh—” He pokes at his pancakes before slicing off more. “I guess this is pretty decent.”

Matthew smiles, reaching over to peck him on the cheek. Gilbert laughs, and steals the whipped cream again. Lovino has to bat his hand away as Gilbert threatens to add some whip to his pancakes, claiming they’re too healthy.

“I don’t want whipped cream for breakfast,” Lovino hisses. “You’re gonna bake cupcakes this afternoon and will abuse them with that American frosting, I don’t need more.”

“They’re good though,” Gilbert says.

“Yes. I _know_. That is exactly why.” And Lovino pinches his arm with one last warning look before he focused on his breakfast.

Gilbert couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, and Matthew could only guess as to what the man is envisioning for later that afternoon. Gilbert loves to feed them, and an excess of frosting just means an excuse for excess touching and (according to Lovino who secretly adores it) unnecessary sloppy kisses.

Matthew meets his eyes, and Gilbert takes a moment to lean across the table to cup his cheek fondly, then follows Lovino’s example and digging into his diabetic heap of a breakfast. Laughing, Matthew does too, relishing as Gilbert chokes on his mouthful as Matthew rubs his foot against his leg discreetly, and Lovino adds whatever chocolate chips were leftover to his pancakes, which Matthew attempts to steal and suffers a heavy blow to his hand by a syrup-coated fork.

And just like that breakfast is as it always is: an loud mess, but Matthew honestly can’t imagine living his life without the noise of his boyfriends, even if a blueberry flies toward Gilbert in a mock attempt of silencing him, and Gilbert retaliates by pointing the can of whipped cream in Lovino’s general direction, making a lewd comment at it sputters. As childish as they are, Matthew loves them, and ends the brewing fight by kicking them both, fluttering his eyelashes at them and making an innocuous comment about a waste of breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> This was something she originally asked me to write also during airport hell, but I never finished it, so I decided to rewrite and finish this for her birthday!!


End file.
